


The Dark Side of Zoness

by Galsult



Series: The Worlds of Lylat [1]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galsult/pseuds/Galsult
Summary: One week after breaking up with his longtime partner Krystal, Fox hits up the dingiest dive on Zoness he can find to drink away the night.  What he finds instead is a surprising companion.





	The Dark Side of Zoness

Fox absentmindedly played with his half-empty glass, swirling the liquid around and watching the distorted reflections of the lights hanging above the bar swirl along with it.

He mentally patted himself on the back for being able to find a dive as shitty as this one.  He set out with the express purpose of hunting down the scummiest haunt he could find, and he didn’t think there could possibly be much worse than this; which was saying a lot, considering the dark side of Zoness’ reputation.

The lighting was dingy, the seats were covered in a thin film of grime, and the music playing in the background was the type of blues-metal that seemed to be popular exclusively in establishments with questionable clientele.  The patrons seemed to be having a good enough time, but it was that particular type of “good” that acted as a thin veneer just barely covering up the real risk of violence brimming beneath the surface.  Fox was no stranger to this brand of ambiance, having spent far too many days and nights in the company of bandits and brigands.  The mercenary life often brought you to the worst places in the galaxy for jobs that could last weeks, and that inevitably meant frequenting establishments just like this one if you wanted to unwind.

Tonight wasn’t like those past forays into potential danger though.  Fox wasn’t here to relax, or to celebrate in the wake of a successful mission alongside his comrades.

No, he was here to get drunk.

And not just a little inebriated, but absolutely _smashed_.

At least that was the idea when he set out in his Arwing.  He’d been here for a solid hour and hadn’t even made it through a single drink.  He kept getting something just a shade less than the evil eye from the bartender, a particularly jowlsy bulldog, who was clearly unhappy with someone as unprofitable as Fox was tonight taking up space at the bar.  Under normal circumstances Fox would feel a little bad about this.  Falco often ribbed him for being too soft, and the bird wasn’t wrong.

Fox often found himself bending over backwards to make other people happy, or even just to not bother them.  He used to think of this character trait as altruistic and was even somewhat proud of it – but as he grew older and more experienced, he often found it led to just as many problems as it solved them.  He wouldn’t say he let people “walk all over him” per se (that was Falco’s phraseology), but he did tend to find himself placed into positions where he put others’ happiness above his own.  He always had to be the one to make the sacrifice: the one to be martyred.  In a roundabout way, it was just as self-centered as living for no one else but yourself – and left unchecked, it could lead to disastrous consequences.

It was these consequences that brought Fox to this bar.

He’d had a rough week to say the least, and it was mostly his own fault.  He couldn’t place all the blame on himself though – that would just be another extension of his deep-seated tendency to saddle everything negative in his life onto his own shoulders.  The only reason he was able to think of the situation in these terms, the reason he was even aware of this tendency, was because of the other party involved.  She shone a spotlight on places in Fox’s mind he purposely left dark, whether by intent or unconscious desire.  She was his savior.  That only made the fact he broke her heart even worse.

Fox was no stranger to guilt.  He still felt it was his fault his father died.  He also knew this was a ridiculous notion, as had been hammered into him more than enough times by Peppy.  But on some level Fox couldn’t help it, no matter how much he knew it was irrational.  It was like he was wired to place himself at fault for everything.

It was Krystal who finally helped him make headway.  Her empathic abilities, and more importantly her care for him, helped him to realize many aspects of himself he was unaware of.  Most of the time these realizations were uncomfortable, but they were always beneficial in the long term.  He was a better leader and a better man because of her.  It was only natural that they’d end up together.  How could it not happen?  It was just too perfect to be any other way.  Krystal was the happiest with him that she’d been since her parents died; he knew this because she told him in confidence one night on Sauria.  He could still remember the way her eyes glimmered in the starlight.  The unconditional love he felt radiating from her.  He made her happy.

But did she make _him_ happy?

That was the question eating at the back of his mind, the question he didn’t even know he was asking himself until she dredged it up out of the deep like a salvage ship delving into uncharted seas.  That was the question that led to the argument, its aftermath, the awkward few days that followed, and finally to this bar.

Fox was shaken out of his self-(indulgent?)-reflection by a voice coming from immediately behind him.

“I’ll have a Katinan Tall.  Hold the pon juice.”

Fox knew that voice.  His combat instincts took over without any conscious thought on his part.  He was off the stool and facing his opponent with blaster locked and loaded in one swift, fluid motion.

The entire establishment froze, and Fox took in the situation as if time was moving slower than normal.  The silence was deadening; if it weren’t for the music continuing to play and the lack of characteristic tinnitus, one would be forgiven for thinking a grenade went off.  The patrons sitting at the bar to his left looked terrified.  More than a few people seated at tables were already standing up or in the process of doing so, hands on weapons of their own.  The bartender looked pissed, no doubt because he had already been through this exact situation not but six hours ago with another pair of customers.

But Fox’s target only stood there with a lopsided grin on his face.  There was no indication that he felt threatened.  If anything, he looked _amused_ , like the idea of having a gun drawn on him was a joke – as if anyone would dare shoot him and think they could get away with it.

The bastard started laughing in his face.  It was a laugh that straddled a line between cheerfulness and contempt, and as it rang out Fox’s mind finally managed to reassert control over his body.  He couldn’t believe he’d just done that.  Why did he do that?  Was he really _that_ on edge?

Shamefacedly, he slowly holstered his gun and sat back down, absolutely refusing to make eye contact with the target of his unconscious fury.  The target in question continued to snicker for a few more seconds, which apparently had the effect of de-escalating the tension in the room.  The patrons who stood up relaxed back into their seats, and the air of snap-violence was quickly dissipating.  Fox had to admire that ability: being able to establish control of a situation through just a laugh.  A laugh that made the recipient feel as if they were foolish, or in the wrong, and yet didn’t sound practiced or unnatural despite its obvious being so.  Clearly being a Lord of Pirates meant working with a different, more dominating set of leadership tactics than that of a captain.  Fox would never use public humiliation as a strategy, but he couldn’t deny its effectiveness.

His new companion took perch on the stool directly to Fox’s right.  He managed to situate it right at the edge of constituting a personal space violation.  Fox knew this was no doubt another tactic of subtle intimidation.

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence went by before the newcomer finally broke it.  “So, you always draw your gun on old war buddies?”

Fox let out a long-suffering sigh.  “Wolf, what are you doing here?”

Wolf’s face took on an expression of obviously feigned indignance.  “What am _I_ doing here?  This is my element, pup.  A better question is what _you’re_ doing here.”

The bartender all but slammed Wolf’s drink on the counter, clearly still pissed off by the earlier display and not caring which of the canines was at fault.  Whatever the drink was, it was strong; Fox could smell the reek from where he was sitting, and it smelled more like someone dumped rubbing alcohol in a glass than a proper drink.  Wolf nodded his thanks to the bartender and knocked back half the glass in one go, letting out a contended sigh afterwards.  He looked at Fox expectantly.

Fox took another careful sip of his drink; at this rate he might be able to actually finish it by dawn.  “I’m just here to relax.”

“Bullshit.”

Fox frowned.  “Why do you care why I’m here anyway?”

“Why _shouldn’t_ I care?  I barely see any of you uptight Star Fucks as it is, and the ass end of Zoness isn’t the kind of place I associate with you bunch – you least of all.”

“Why do I get special mention?”

Wolf shot him another one of those patented Wolf grins: loaded, lopsided affairs that carried a combination of smugness, superiority, and suggestion of danger.  “Because you’re the biggest stick in the mud of the bunch.  I wouldn’t be as surprised if I ran into the bird here.  Hell, I could even see your little frog sidekick in here before you.”

Fox had to laugh at that.  “Oh please.  You really think I’m less likely to hit up a bar than Slippy?”

“No question.”  Fox couldn’t detect any hint of sarcasm in either Wolf’s tone or face.

“You really believe that?”

Wolf took another, more measured sip of his drink.  “Yeah, I do.  I can see Froggy Boy getting shitfaced on occasion, if it calls for it.  You though?  You’re too tense.  Too _in_ tense.”

“I’m not that intense.”

Wolf gave him a withering look.  “Really?  That why your first instinct when hearing my voice is to draw a gun and almost set off a firefight in a civvie establishment?”

Fox grimaced.  He knew he wasn’t getting out of that one without addressing it outright.  “Look, Wolf, I’m sorry.  I really am.  I didn’t mean to – it was just…”

“…Instinct?”

Fox turned his head down to the counter, watching that display of lights in his glass again.  “Yeah.”

“No worries, pup.  Water under the bridge.  I’m adding it to the tally though.”

“What tally?”

“The tally keeping track of the number of times you’ve tried to kill me.”  And there was that grin again, bigger and more boisterous than ever.

Fox glared daggers at Wolf.  That one was _not_ fair.  “Now hold on.  We’ve been in three dogfights-”

“ _So far_ ”, Wolf interrupted.  Fox chose to ignore it.

“Three dogfights, and you initiated all of them.”

Wolf smiled and shook his head.  “Not that shit on Sargasso.  You can’t blame me for defending my own.”

Fox had no choice but to acquiesce; Wolf was technically right on that count.  “Alright, that’s fair enough.  But my point still stands: you’ve been the one to start most of our fights.”

“Two fights, which is barely anything in this world.  And I was under orders for both of those anyway.”

 _And there’s the kicker_ , Fox thought.  He and Wolf had a complicated relationship.  Wolf was his dread enemy during the Lylat Wars: easily the greatest threat he faced sans Andross himself.  On top of that, Wolf give Pigma Dengar, his father’s killer, a position with Star Wolf.  Their mutual enmity morphed into something harder to pin down as the years went by though.  Wolf eventually kicked Pigma off his team, and even told Fox where to find him afterwards.  Star Wolf was also essential to the Lylat System’s victories in both the Aparoid _and_ Anglar Empire conflicts, the first of which would have led to the death and assimilation of trillions if they’d failed.

Star Wolf finally made formal peace with Corneria in the wake of the latter conflict, mediated in no small part by team Star Fox.  Fox had personally put pressure on the brass for this endeavor.  He felt everyone owed Star Wolf more than they realized, certainly enough to warrant a suspension of standing orders to bring them in for past crimes – provided of course that Star Wolf made sure not to slip back into criminal enterprise in the future.

Despite this, Fox still wasn’t sure what to make of Wolf.  They’d been dire enemies, then rivals, and finally something like grudging allies – maybe acquaintances if you really wanted to push it.  Their respective teams had worked a few jobs with each other in the years since the Anglar business, but relations were always a little tense.  Wolf had personally saved Fox’s life – twice (three times if following Wolf’s mantra about action counted) – and yet they could never seem to fully put the past behind them.

Or at least Fox couldn’t.  He got the distinct sense Wolf primarily lived in the present, and would find all this rumination pointless and even a little amusing.

“You still with me, pup?”

Fox startled.  He’d apparently gone too deep into his thoughts again, a more frequent occurrence ever since Krystal taught him the art of directed introspection.  “Yeah, just got lost in thought.”

Wolf snorted.  “You never struck me as the type of guy prone to long, thoughtful silences.  But then again, I never pinned you for having taste in saloons this bad either, so what do I know?”

Fox smiled, at least a little bit.  “I never was the type of guy prone to it, no.  Blame Krystal for it.”

“How is she, anyway?”

“We broke up.”

Fox braced himself for the inevitable snide comment or peal of rude laughter, but it never came.  “Sorry to hear that.”

Fox scoffed.  He wasn’t about to set himself up for an attack; the moment he let his guard down Wolf would strike.  “Yeah, okay.  I appreciate the attempted gesture anyway.”

“I’m being serious.”

Fox cautiously glanced at Wolf and was surprised by what he saw.  There was no hint of that malicious grin, no indication that Wolf was planning a verbal assault.  Instead, he looked almost apologetic – maybe even a little empathetic.  Fox wasn’t sure what to make of this development; but then again what else was new when dealing with Wolf?

He sighed, and decided to roll with it.  This whole night was about drinking away the past anyway.  Or at least that was the plan.  “Thank you.”

Wolf took another sip of his drink, this one more carefully than the last.  He didn’t show any sign of putting that mask of a smile back on his face, but Fox wasn’t naïve enough to assume that meant this new expression was any less of a façade.  Wolf was always inscrutable: whenever they met it was impossible for Fox to tell when he was teasing, being serious, or teasing as a cover for being serious.  Fox wasn’t even sure if he’d ever really _met_ Wolf – the real Wolf, that is.

Wolf glanced over at him.  “So.  Why’d you break it off?”

“You think _I_ did?”

“Shit, pup.  She’s always been head over heels for you; it’s impossible not to notice.  Made me want to gag every time we had to team up.  I don’t see her doing the breaking.”

Fox took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out.  “Well you’re wrong.  She dumped me.”

Wolf actually looked _surprised_.  Fox was starting to believe he really _was_ seeing the real him: two whole facial expressions in one conversation that weren’t that dominating smile.  It was a record.

“What?  No way.  Why?”

Fox decisively did not want to get into this, least of all with Wolf.  “I think I’ll pass on answering that one.”

And there it was: the grin returned.  Fox put up a wall, and Wolf responded in kind.  “Suit yourself.  It’s your love life, not mine.”

_“It’s your life, Fox.  I can’t make you live a way you don’t want to.”_

_“But I_ do _want to!  I love you!”_

_Tears were flowing down her cheeks, but she was smiling.  “I know you do, but it’s not in the same way I love you.  I won’t tie you to this-”_

_Fox interrupted her.  “What are you even saying?  You’re not me.  You can’t just, rummage through my brain like a dumpster diver and tell me who I am.  Fuck that.”_

_She laughed.  Combined with the crying, it was a strangled sound.  “I_ can _though.  I shouldn’t, but I did, and I can’t ignore what I saw.  For your sake, and also for mine.”_

Fox shook his head.  The whole purpose of this getaway was to drink away the past and hope a new tide would usher in better times to come: a baptism by alcohol.  Wolf was making it difficult.  To his credit, it didn’t seem intentional on his part.

“Yeah.  What’re you doing out here anyway?  Now that you know why I’m here.”

Wolf leaned back a bit, hands behind his head.  Fox was afraid he’d fall off the stool. “I’m here on business.”

Fox wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.  “Do I want to hear what this… ‘business’ entails?”

Wolf leaned back in and chuckled, making a dismissive gesture.  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I’m not doing anything illegal.  Panther and I are working a protection gig for some backwater refinery company.  They keep getting hit up by bandits and having their shit stolen.”  He chugged down the remainder of his drink and signaled the waiter for another round.

“I didn’t know any of the foundries around here could pay your fees.  It’s all small fry firms.”

Wolf made a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a groan.  “They can’t.  Or at least, they couldn’t before we lowered our prices.  In case you haven’t noticed, things haven’t been great for Star Wolf lately.  Turns out not many people want to work alongside a bunch of criminals.”

“ _Former_ criminals.”  Fox said it with a conviction that surprised himself.

“Sure, whatever.  Point is, we’ve hit a bit of a dry spell lately.  ‘Specially doesn’t help that we, uh… lost Leon.”

Fox spit out his drink.  “Leon _died_!?”  Wolf only laughed.

“What?  No.  _Hell_ no.  Panther and I kicked him out.  We learned he was still taking illegal jobs on the side.  I mean, we kind of already guessed he was doing some casual smuggling, maybe a bit of gun-running.  But when we found out he was taking side jobs as a hitman for the Fichina Families we had to axe him.  I’m not getting tangled up in mob shit again.”

“…Again?”

Wolf smiled a particularly dangerous smile.  “Story for another time, pup.”

Fox thought it over.  He already knew Star Wolf was having a rough time.  It’d been a while since Star Fox last cooperated with them on a joint mission, and their gear was looking a little worse for wear even back then.  Fox wasn’t sure he wanted to know how it looked now.

“Have you thought of taking on a new pilot?”

Wolf took another drink – the bartender had replaced it.  “Of course I have.  Like I said though, Star Wolf’s got a reputation.  No one who’s not a scumbag wants to join.”

“I’m not a scumbag and I’d join.”  It was out of his mouth before he could even stop it.  Wolf laughed, and Fox was mortified.  Why did he even say that? “I mean, if I wasn’t already leading a team.”

 _Smooth save, Fox_.

Wolf’s laughs tapered down to some mild sniggers.  “Well that’s great to know.  The second you quit that goody two-shoes gig you got going on, you’re hired.  I could use a nice piece of ass on hand anyway.”

Fox’s grip on his drink tightened.  _Did Wolf know_ …?  No, he couldn’t.  He was just trying to mess with him, get in his head and psych him out.  This was just like their dogfights: as long as Fox approached the conversation like they were in their ships and trying to kill each other, he wouldn’t be taken off guard.  He was an expert at feints and deflection – his entire job was to outmaneuver everyone else.  He could apply the same level of dexterity to this encounter as any other combat engagement.

“What makes you so sure I’m that easy?”

 _Or not, apparently_.  He wanted to blame the alcohol, but he knew he couldn’t because he’d barely drank anything.

Wolf turned to face him.  His eye was somewhat lidded, and it reflected the light of the bar just enough to give it the suggestion of a slight violet glow.  He gave Fox an unashamedly appraising look, and to Fox’s chagrin he felt its effects on his body.  He was growing warm, and just _knew_ his ears were blushing.  His fears were confirmed when Wolf’s lips started to turn upward.  He smiled again – one that Fox hadn’t seen before.  This was dangerous in a way Fox didn’t know Wolf could even be.  He could feel Wolf’s suggestive aura: it was written in his face, the body language, the subtly dominating position of his legs on both sides of Fox’s stool.

Fox froze up.  He didn’t know what to do with this – didn’t want to know.  He wasn’t ready to have this conversation with Krystal and he certainly wasn’t ready to have it with himself.  He started to realize he couldn’t drink until he forgot about this, because it was a part of him.  But he didn’t _want_ it to be.  Why couldn’t she understand that?  Why couldn’t he make _himself_ understand that, at least enough to put an end to this Wolf situation?

He knew why: deep down, he knew.  It was because he didn’t want to.

Wolf only continued to look at him, waiting patiently for some kind of response.  A sign.  Fox made eye contact with his former rival, and smiled himself.  A slight thing: more shy and nervous than anything else.  Wolf took this as the go-ahead.

“I wasn’t sure.  But now?”  Wolf leaned in, his muzzle within an inch of Fox’s ear. His breath ghosted across Fox’s head.  “I think I’m picking up a bit of a vibe here.”  Fox shivered despite the warmth, and Wolf didn’t fail to notice, chuckling.

Fox mentally recollected himself at least somewhat.  “Wolf, I just broke up a few days ago-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.  You’re on the rebound.  We’ve all been there before.”  Wolf moved his head back, but still kept it directly in front of Fox’s face.  Fox could feel the desire radiating from him, the scent of his pheromones now obvious (embarrassingly, Fox could also smell his own).  Wolf tilted his head slightly to the side, and moved closer, stopping just short of Fox’s muzzle.  “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun though, does it?”

Fox couldn’t take it anymore.  The fight within himself was raging out of control.  He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to hold onto in this mad rush of emotions.  He was lost in a tumultuous sea of choice and consequence.  He needed to anchor himself: find _something_ to hold fast.  Something to guide him.  A memory, a thought, an idea.  Something.  Anything.

_When the time comes, don’t hesitate.  Just act._

And there it was: his anchor.

Fox closed the gap and pressed their muzzles together.  Wolf was taken aback at first, but swiftly restored his composure and smiled into the kiss.  It started off fairly chaste, lips moving in sync as the noise of the bar fell to the wayside – but it wasn’t long before Wolf started testing the waters, sliding his tongue into Fox’s mouth and wrapping it around Fox’s own, _pulling_ on it.  Fox didn’t even know you could do that.  He also knew he should be resisting, at least putting up _somewhat_ of a fight, slowing down the pace to at least a manageable level – he didn’t want Wolf to think he really was that easy.  But it felt too damn good to bother.

Wolf put his paw on Fox’s thigh and started massaging it.  Fox responded in kind by wrapping his arm around Wolf’s back and settling it on his side.  Wolf laughed into the kiss as he did so, and pulled back – much to Fox’s disappointment.

“W-why did you stop?”

“Don’t you think we’re getting a bit heated for a public establishment?”

Fox’s face dropped like a stone.  He’d completely lost track of what was going on around them, so he took a cursory scan of their surroundings.  Luckily, no one seemed to notice; or if they did then they didn’t care.  It was just another bang-up couple of poor, lonely workers in a dingy dive as far as the clientele was concerned – nothing new or noteworthy in this part of the galaxy.  You took what entertainment you could get.

Even so, Fox was embarrassed that he let his emotions get the better of him to that extent in public.  This whole week had been so damn _weird_ : he felt like he was watching his own life from the sidelines.  He was doing things he’d never normally do.

And worst of all, he didn’t even feel bad about it.  He felt like he _should_ feel bad about it, but he didn’t.

“Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right.  Uh…”

Wolf snuck a quick kiss onto the side of his open mouth and retreated just as swiftly.  “Wolf got your tongue?”

Fox frowned, and even felt a little miffed.  “That was an awful joke.”

Wolf chuckled: it was a deep, rumbling sound.  Fox felt it thrum through Wolf’s paw and up his leg.  Speaking of, Wolf hadn’t moved it away yet.  He kept it there, rubbing, pulling, massaging: any further upwards and it’d be getting dangerously close, and Wolf obviously knew it, and he knew that Fox knew.  This was all just another game to him.  _Everything_ was a game to him.

But Fox didn’t want to stop playing.

He replaced his paw from Wolf’s side and set it on the lupine’s thigh in an act of reciprocation.  “So…”

Wolf cocked his head to the side, still smiling.  “…So?”

“I mean, you said this place was too public.”

“Uh-huh.”

They both remained silent for a moment.  Fox was waiting for Wolf to respond to the cue.  He already knew Wolf got it; now was the game to see who would take it into the open first.

“You know…?”

“What do I know?”

Fox was obviously going to lose this round too.  Wolf was clearly a master.

“…Do you want to go somewhere, like…?”

“…less public?”

 _Finally_.

“Yes.”

Wolf removed his paw and Fox let out a sigh at the loss of contact; a sound that was not lost on Wolf, who was visibly pleased by the effect he had on Fox.  He swiveled off of the stool, stood up, and took a large stretch.  Fox couldn’t help but notice the visible musculature under his shirt as he stretched, which was plainly the point of the maneuver.  Well, at least in part.  Fox found himself stretching after standing up too; turns out those stools were really bad for healthy sitting posture.

Before he could ask where they were going, Wolf gripped his shoulder and indicated towards the back of the bar with a jerk of his head.  He took off at a leisurely pace, and Fox followed.

Fox couldn’t believe he was doing this.  He didn’t even know what “this” was.  Were they going to make out more, talk, or…?  Again, it was like he was watching his own actions from afar.  It felt surreal, like he was in a lucid dream.  And yet he felt that pit of hot anxiety in his stomach: that heat of anticipation.  He willingly followed Wolf out the back door, unable to take his eyes off the lupine’s ass the entire way.

They made their way outside into an alleyway, and Wolf closed the door behind them.  It was dark, nestled between two rows of towering concrete edifices riddled with massive titanium pipes.  Even the buildings that had nothing whatsoever to do with the refineries looked like them: Zoness was one big mass of pipes set afloat on an endless dead sea.  The sounds from the main thoroughfares were audible but muffled.  Fox could hear hovercars, the distant sound of sirens, and – if he really strained his ears – the slight, rhythmic rumble of waves slamming against the pillars holding up the city-platform.  Steam emerged from gaps in the water-bearing pipes every so often, filling the narrow backstreet with a fine mist that smelled like salt and seaweed.

Wolf took a look at their surroundings, sensing everything Fox had.  Being canines, they were both naturally alert to their environment, and years of military experience had honed those senses to a fine sharpness measurable in micrometers.  He took a deep breath, and exhaled, apparently content with their surroundings.  “This’ll do.”

Before Fox had a chance to say anything, Wolf had one arm on his hip, on around his back, and was forcefully meeting Fox’s muzzle with his own.  Fox could feel his need, and reciprocated in kind.  It was chaotic, the way they kissed.  Fox bunched his hands into Wolf’s shirt, holding onto it like a drowning man grasping for something to hold him afloat.  Wolf’s tongue did that pulling thing again, something that Fox was finding it impossible to resist.

Wolf pressed closer, moving his leg between Fox’s, and pushed the vulpine against the wall for balance.  Fox let out an audible moan as he felt Wolf’s hardness press against his own, unconsciously undulating his hips.

Wolf broke the kiss and laughed.  “Eager, are we?  Eh, pup?”

Fox was dizzy with lust.  He was done with playing the man adrift.  He moved his paws up under Wolf’s shirt, drifting them up and down, feeling and memorizing the well-built frame beneath.  His right paw trailed down Wolf’s abs and dipped their way ever so slightly into the top of his waistband.

“ _Jesus_ , Fox.  You really need this, don’t you?”

He did.  He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he did.  He needed to wash this week away.  He needed to wash his _life_ away.  Anything to forget.

“Wolf.”

The lupine locked gazes with him.  His expression was calm, but belied a frenzy bubbling up from beneath.  He was in need of this as much as Fox – and Fox didn’t have to say anything more but his name.

Wolf locked them into the kiss once more, gentler this time.  He pulled at Fox’s lips with his own, establishing a rhythm easy for Fox to match.  His strong paws mirrored Fox’s actions from earlier, lifting Fox’s shirt away and massaging his lean body.  Fox moaned into the kiss as Wolf pushed lower, and lower, and lower.  Wolf stopped then, and looked directly into Fox’s eyes.  There was no doubt then in Fox’s mind: the mask was lifted.  This was Wolf, the _real_ Wolf.  Dark and dominant, yes; but also kind, and caring, and in control.  His eyes were so beautiful, and Fox nodded, yes, he wanted this.

Wolf smiled.  The lopsided grin made Fox harder.  He trailed his paws lower, one finagling Fox’s button and fly open, and one cupping his balls.  Fox hissed as Wolf pulled his flight pants and briefs down in one go, letting him free into the cold Zoness air.

He gripped Fox’s cock and began jerking him off.  Fox let his head back and moaned.  Wolf re-established the kiss, and Fox eagerly reciprocated.  All he could feel was Wolf’s tongue on his own, Wolf’s calloused paw stroking up and down his cock, firm and gentle all at once.

Fox’s had his paws on Wolf’s waist, and began to move them lower himself.  He struggled with Wolf’s pants for a moment before Wolf laughed and undid them himself.  Wolf had them making out again before Fox had time to be embarrassed by the combination of his obvious lack of experience and clumsy, lustful fever.

They stroked each other, periodically picking up the pace.  Wolf had stopped kissing Fox’s muzzle and had moved onto his neck, and collarbone, and anything else within easy access of his head.  He nibbled and licked at Fox’s neck while rhythmically pumping his cock, and the vulpine was lost in ecstasy.  But no matter how much it was, Fox wanted _more_.

“Wolf.”

He looked at him again, violet eyes locked on emerald green.

“Go faster.”

Wolf smiled devilishly, and followed Fox’s orders to a T.  Fox moaned again, louder and higher-pitched this time, and Wolf tried to smother the sound with his mouth, laughing.  “You trying to get us caught, pup?”

Fox could barely get a response out.  He knew he had a dumb smile on his mouth, blush obvious in his ears, hand around Wolf’s (very sizeable, _Christ_ how does he fit that in his pants?) cock and jerking him in a way that was doubtlessly establishing his lack of experience.  But he didn’t care.

“Does it matter if we get caught?”

Wolf only laughed and went right back to kissing every inch of his face.  Wolf increased his speed even _further_ , and established a firmer grip on Fox’s cock.  Fox knew he couldn’t last much more with this.  He could feel himself getting close.  If it was any consolation, Wolf’s suddenly deeper and more frantic breathing indicated he was almost there too.

“Umm… Wolf?”

“Yeah, pup?”  He sounded labored.

“I’m close.”

Wolf laughed again, breathier and more desperate than Fox had ever heard him.  “Same.”

Fox swallowed, could barely speak.  “Should we, like…?”

Wolf caught his drift.  “Nah, we can just clean up afterwards.  Little mess never hurt anyone.”

“Okay.”

Fox’s breathing doubled, and Wolf’s followed suit.  They continued to kiss for another moment, paws pumping, hot breath tracing each other’s faces.  Fox was lost in the feeling when he heard Wolf.  “Oh _shit_.”  Fox could feel sudden warmth on his lower abdomen as Wolf let out a series of strangled grunts into his collarbone.  And that was it for Fox, there was no way he was going to last after that.  He came shortly thereafter, shooting into Wolf’s paw.  He _thought_ he might have moaned, or shouted, or something, but he couldn’t even tell.

They stood like that for a minute, wrapped in each other’s embrace, breathing heavily, covered in a sticky haphazard mess that ranged from their chests to a few drops on their boots.  Wolf let out a relieved laugh, brighter than his usual.  He was obviously very pleased by the way things turned out.

“ _Shit_ , Fox.  We should have been doing this sooner.  I mean, _fuck_.”

Fox stood there, and the world suddenly lurched.  He had spent the whole night feeling like he was watching from a distance, and only now did he feel like he was truly in control again.  Like he was himself.

He didn’t know what to say, so he only stood there for a few seconds.  Wolf said nothing, but offered him a bandana from his pocket.  Fox was lost.

“…What?”

“It’s to clean up with.”

“You carry around, like… cum rags-”

Wolf roared with laughter.  “ _Jesus_ , Fox.  No, I do not carry around cum rags.  That’s just a cloth for wiping down the Wolfen, happened to have it on me.  Thought it might be better then walking around covered in my jizz.”

Fox felt his stomach turn a little.  It wasn’t the idea of Wolf and him being… _intimate_ , that turned it; but rather the idea that he’d let it happen.  He accepted Wolf’s rag and dried up; he wasn’t even surprised when Wolf turned around and used it again on himself.

Wolf tucked it back into his pocket, and Fox shot him a disbelieving look.  “What?  S’not like I can’t clean it later.  Don’t want to waste a perfectly good duster.”  He showed no sign of shame, either at the act of keeping the rag, or at the act that led to its use in the first place.  Fox was right earlier: Wolf lived purely in the moment, no regrets.

Wolf stretched and leaned back against the wall to Fox’s side.  He chuckled.  “Nice view.  I always loved the look of shitty concrete and pipes, very homey.”  He put his arm around Fox’s waist and held him fast.  “I was thinking, you know?  When I’m done with his gig me and Panther will probably be headed back to Corneria, do what you said, try to scout out some new recruits.  You want to meet up again?”

Fox steeled himself.  He knew this was coming.  He knew it was coming and damn him he went along with this whole wayward encounter anyway.

“Wolf…”

The lupine looked at him, sensing the tone, the shifting body language.

“I’m not gay.”

Wolf looked away.  A few seconds later he removed his arm from Fox’s side.  He stood like that for a moment, and when he turned back to face Fox he was grinning again.  That same mask of a smile he wore when he first walked into the bar and Fox drew a gun on him.  Wolf was gone, and Lord O’Donnell was back.

“Of course not.  You’re on the rebound, you said it yourself.  Just needed to get off since you aren’t getting any back at home base.”

Fox felt sick to his stomach.  “Wolf, please understand-”

Wolf made a dismissive gesture, his face an exaggerated mien seeming to say _no problem, it’s all fine_.  “Don’t worry, I totally get it.  You needed a slut and you found one, practically waltzed right in.  Now you can go back to being Heterosexual Hero Fox McCloud.”  He said the last part in a pompous tone befitting a recruitment ad for the Cornerian Flight Corps.

Fox felt like he’d been punched in the gut.  This was wrong, he _knew_ it was wrong; but he was also finally back in the pilot’s seat for the first time this night, and he knew he had to take action to restore the status quo.  “Wolf, I don’t think you’re a slut.  This isn’t your fault; it’s mine.  I don’t know what came over me.”  It had all happened so _fast_ : why did he let it happen like that?  What was he thinking?

Wolf looked at him dismissively, and turned aside.  It hurt worse than any of his words.  He chuckled again, once more fully composed.  “Well I do: me.”

 _I walked right into that_.  Fox couldn’t help but smile a bit at the joke.  It wasn’t returned by Wolf, who only sighed.

“Let me put it like this, pup.  You clearly have the hots for me, and it don’t take a genius to figure that out.  But you also clearly have some real shit going down in that noggin of yours; and I mean _deep_ shit, the kind it takes a professional to sort through.  So I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that about not being into guys, alright?”

“Wolf-”

“ _No_.  Hear me out.”

Fox was cowed.  He bit back a retort and listened.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because it’s obviously not true, even if you want it to be.  I _could_ write you off as a massive asshole, but I won’t, because something’s up with you.  So when you get back to your team, I want you to tell someone you trust, ‘hey, I’m dealing with some shit right now, can you help?’  And I want you to mean it.  Do this for me, alright?  And if you ever clear up whatever’s going down, maybe hit me up sometime.”

Wolf clapped him on the shoulder, and walked away.

Fox stood there for a few minutes, first watching Wolf leave, and then thinking over everything that happened.

Wolf was right, that much he knew for certain.  He knew because it was part of what Krystal and he discovered.  There was a part of himself he wasn’t alright with, and it was his own doing that he wasn’t alright with it; at least partially.  But that was another part of the problem: the reason he couldn’t solve this.  He knew who could help, but didn’t want to face her.  He couldn’t face her because…

_Why couldn’t he face her?_

He tried and failed to come up with a reasonable answer to that question.  The only thing stopping him from talking to her was his own childishness.  He sighed.  He knew he _really_ fucked up this week.  He really, _really_ fucked up tonight.  He had to own up to it at some point.

He took out his comm and dialed the top number saved in his address list.  He held it to his ear, drinking in his surroundings once more, hearing that rumble the of tides echo in the distance.

She finally picked up.

“…Fox?”

He let out a deep breath and braced himself.

“Hey, Krystal.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to be a one-shot, but who knows, it could end up being more.


End file.
